Brooklyn's Grounds
by Firefly Conlon
Summary: He can't be dead. It's impossible for HIM to be dead: but he is. Christa is a girl from 2010. A murder in the past had boiled down to her. Can a ghost with a mission help her solve it? Will a boy long dead finally be at peace?
1. A Ghost

_Here is my new mystery! Sort of inspired by 'Tears from the Moon' by Dimensional Traveller, but not along the same plot line. Mine is very different, but does involve ghosts of Spot and his past girlfriend (Sort of) _

_Christa is based on the lovely Christina Conlon._

_Nona is based on my grandmother, Mamma2._

_In chapter 2: Demi is based on Dimensional Traveller! Thanks! _

_Disclaimer: No I do not own Newsies (If I did, I would be working on getting the old cast together for a sequel)_

_REVIEWS!_

* * *

"**Dead?" the word echoed through the alleyways of New York City. It was the constant reminder of Brooklyn's grief. "He can't be **_**dead**_** he's…he's **_**him.**_** He is utterly indestructible, inhuman, and immortal! He's…dead." It was supposed to be impossible! But if you pass the cemetery on Grey Road and Apple Street, you'll see it. You'll see the gravestone with **_**his**_** name on it; and next to it, **_**her **_**headstone. Inseparable even in death. **

**And after death. **

I sat on the couch with a steaming mug of tea on a Saturday morning. My black cat, Aladdin, was purring up a storm on my lap. I held my book in my hands, _Pulitzer: a life in Politics and Print_. It was boring as all get-out. But I wanted to learn as much as I could about his life for a school project about the newsboy's strike of 1899. I set the book down and looked around the bare Brooklyn apartment.

My parents were in Kenya, volunteering as doctors in some rural village. I knew it was just for their image, why would two world renowned doctors need to go to Kenya? Only for their precious image, to make them look like the caring people they weren't. They had decided that I was mature for my age (16) and left me alone in the city for the three months they would be gone. Of course I had Nona, my grandmother on my mother's side, to stop by every few days. She knew _everything _about the family's history and the history of New York itself. I loved her very much and looked upon her as a mother, more so than my own constantly absent one.

It was on this dreary October day when I walked to the new Antique store that had opened down the road. On the window was a sign 'Specializing in 1899-1920 artifacts'. Maybe there was something around the time of Pulitzer! Maybe they had some _World_ clippings inside! I stepped over the rise on the step, and began looking around. The slight elderly woman at the front desk looked at me suspiciously before warning me to "Be careful."

I found some laminated newspaper clippings. There was a _New York Sun_ a _Journal _and finally, a _World. _I picked up the _World _and skimmed it. It was boring 'Trolley Strike Drags on for Third Week' the _Sun_ was much more interesting. 'Children's Crusade: Newsies Stop the World'. I looked at the faded and yellowed picture. Several confused looking teenage boys grouped on a platform of some sort. In the middle was a smiling boy, the only one who looked like he knew what he was doing. Next to him was a boy grimacing in pain and grabbing his foot. I snickered a little at this.

"Careful with those, they're from 1899!" Desk Lady said snappishly.

"Yes Ma'am. I'll try my best to be as gentle as possible," I said softly, rather like an intimidated child.

"See that you do," she wasn't as bitter looking now, and her gaze softened. "That's my great-grandfather in the center of that very photo. Jack Kelley, the leader of the Manhattan newsies."

"They really did something great," I said. Another boy caught my eye. He was shorter than Jack, and was standing next to a boy with an eye patch. He looked rather dazed, his arm bent as a younger boy hung from his elbow; and his mouth was slightly agape.

"Who is that?" I asked, looking through the list of names at the bottom of the picture to locate him.

"Who?" Desk Lady walked over and I pointed. She smiled. "That, young lady, is Spot Conlon. The infamous ladies' man of Brooklyn! Our very own little king," she motioned around the room. "This used to be a Lodging House for him and his newsies," she said. I looked around, noticing the stairs in the corner that were roped off.

"I hate to prod, but why is that area roped off?" I asked. She frowned for a second, before motioning for me to follow her. I set the clipping down in its original spot and followed her up the staircase.

"This is the section I save for really special customers. You seem interested in the newsies' life. So you can see it," _it's a good thing I brought some money with me._

"This is where Spot stayed; the others were in a bunk room. In the small room was a shelf. It was covered in old hats. Black, brown, gray, blue, a faded yellow one. I picked up a forlorn gray cabby cap and turned to the Desk Lady.

"How much is this one?" I asked. She turned to me absentmindedly. She looked up at my face and froze. I heard her gasp and I saw her begin to shake. "Are you alright?" I asked.

"Y-Y-Yes," she said. "That hat was Spot's. It's $100. For you? $80," she said, regaining her normal business like composure.

"Thank you," I handed her the money and headed back to my apartment for a hot shower and a good night's sleep.

DESK LADY'S POV

I was taking this little misfit to my most coveted artifact room. This store room was where _only_ newsies things were displayed for my more trusted and adult customers. Most of them were disregarded as fakes by my collector friends, but I knew better. The girl looked around in awe and admiration. I was distracted by a hat arrangement. "How much is this one?" she asked. I looked over. Instead of the girl…there was a boy.

It was the boy from the clipping of the _Sun_, Spot Conlon. He was smirking at me from the side of his mouth, his hat in his hands. Then he faded away, as if he was fading _into_ the girl. When his figure was gone, the girl was standing there staring at me.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Concern laced her tone.

"Y-Y-Yes," I said, trying to remember how to breathe. "That hat was Spot's. It's $100. For you? $80," I struck an unusual deal. Surely the specter was a sign.

"Thank you," she handed me the money and left my shop. _I think I need to take a nap, and maybe some Aspirin. _

CHRISTA'S POV

I lay in bed, looking over at the hat. I had left it sitting lonely on my bedside table; it seemed to give off an eerie aura of authority. Which was impossible, it's only a hat! But it was _Spot Conlon's_ hat. That must mean something. I thought I saw the figure of a boy by the hat, but my eyes closed and I was pulled into a dream.

* * *

_I am sitting in the same room as the lady showed me today. I am wearing an odd dress from the early 20__th__ century, or late 19__th__ century. __I am sitting on a wooden bed covered with a thin blanket. It seems like an odd case of déjà vu and the edge of my vision is slightly blurred. _I remember this, but I've never been here before._ The door to the room opens and I stand up against my will. _I am not controlling myself. The dream is._ The person who entered is the boy from the picture, Spot Conlon. I hear my mouth form words,"You're alright!" in relief I don't understand. _Why am I saying these things? What is that feeling in the pit of my stomach? Do I **love**him?

"_Me? Ise glad dat youse is alright! I thought youse was dead!" I realize that the boy has several cuts on his face._

"_But you were hurt! I'm so sorry I got into that mess," I am crying now. _I feel sad and I don't know why.

"_Jewel," he says softly, as if the word were a caress. _Jewel? _"I will protect youse forever and always. Ain't no one in da woild dat can harm youse, not while I'm around. Dead or alive, I'll be dere foah youse, I promise!" _

_We lean towards each other, his arms wrapping around my waist. I feel so warm and safe…

* * *

_

Something fell onto my face and I sat up with a start. Aladdin. He meowed angrily and pawed at my hair. I sighed and stood up. It was already morning and he was probably hungry. I stumbled into the kitchen and opened the cupboard. I measured out the cat food and put it into his little green dish. A few pieces scattered across the linoleum and I smiled to myself as Aladdin chased after them. I heard a knock at the door and went to open it, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I went. Nona stood in the doorway, her white hair up in a pony tail.

"Hello Nona," I said with a yawn.

"Good morning sleepyhead," she laughed.

"Guess what I found at an antique store," I said, running to grab my hat.

"Something your parents probably don't want around the house?" she asked teasingly. I shook my head and pulled the hat out from behind my back.

"Genuine history. This used to belong to a newsie from 1899!" I put it on my head. Nona gasped sharply and took a few steps back, her eyes wide and her hand over her heart. I ran towards her and wrapped my arms around her, the hat falling to the ground.

"Are you alright?" I asked. "You look like you saw a ghost!"

"I-I think I did," she said shakily as she sat down on the couch.

"What do you mean? This is the second time someone's reacted like that when I was holding or wearing the hat!" I said.

"When you put it on your head, there…there was a boy. He was wearing red suspenders, brown trousers, and a gingham shirt. He had very; _very_ blue eyes and he smirked at me! Then he disappeared, as if he was going _into_ the hat. Strange," she muttered the last word under her breath.

"Spot," I said, remembering his clothing from the picture. It wasn't in color, but it had shown a boy wearing gingham and suspenders.

"Who?" Nona's face was aghast as if I had said 'Open sesame' and our T.V. turned to gold.

"Spot Conlon, the leader of Brooklyn," I said.

"How do you know about him?" she asked.

"That's his hat," I said, leaning over the arm of the couch to retrieve it from the floor.

"Do you know about your great-great grandmother? My great-grandmother?" she asked.

"Not really, her name was Jacqueline right?" I asked to make sure.

"Yes, she had a sister," Nona nodded somberly.

"I never heard about her sister," I said.

"She's not spoken of often. She died at age 15, she was murdered," Nona said softly.

"By who?" I was curious now, sad about her early death, but curious as to why she died.

"Many people believe it was one of the Delancy brothers, but I think it was a jealous rival from Queens, Monster. He was their leader, and had quite a thing for Jewel," Nona nodded knowingly.

"So Jewel was murdered, what happened to Spot?" I asked.

"He was killed before Jewel was," Nona saddened.

"Do you have any albums or anything? Did they have any pictures?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes, I do believe so," Nona muttered, "I'll bring them over tomorrow!" she gave me a kiss and a hug and left for her apartment on the other side of Brooklyn. I sat back down with my book, wondering about the mysterious deaths of my ancestors. Why was Spot coming back now? Why was Jewel murdered if Monster loved her? How was Spot murdered?

I found that I couldn't read with all of this going on in my head, and settled onto the couch with a movie. I plugged myself into my newest favorite movie: Lord Of The Rings…and promptly fell back into a dream:

* * *

_I am standing in an alleyway, Spot is being held back by five boys far larger and stronger than him. The three he managed to fight off are nursing injuries on the ground. A boy I know is named Monster is holding my wrists and pushing me up against a cold brick wall. _Another strange flashback-dream._ "Hello Jewel," Monster croons._

"_I hate you!" I spit in his face. He shoves me back roughly._

"_You shouldn't have done that," he says and looks back at his goons. He nods. One of them hits Spot, Spot grunts and grimaces. I forgot about Spot! _

"_What do you want Monster?" I ask warily._

"_You to marry me, toots," he says. _

"_I'm only fifteen!" I protest._

"_It's not unheard of," he shrugs. _

"_Promise to leave Spot alone," I say softly. _

"_NO! Jewel! Don't do it! I'll be fine," Spot shouts angrily. _Why can't someone hear us? Is the alleyway being guarded? Most likely.

"_I promise," Monster sneers as I hear Spot grunt again._

"_Fine," I say, resigned to my fate as the wife of a monster named Monster. _

"_Jewel," I hear Spot groan. I turn to him, but it's too late. Spot lies facedown on the ground, a knife protruding from his back. _

"_SPOT!" I scream, leaping away from Monster in a burst of energy. I am at Spot's side, holding his head tenderly in my lap. _

"_I love you! Don't leave me!" I cry out in a strangled tone. It feels like my heart has been cut out and smashed. _

"_I…love…you…Jewel," Spot gasps. I hear Monster's cruel laugh from behind me. "I…promised," and then my beloved is gone._

"_I HATE YOU!"I pull the knife from Spot's back and turn on Monster in fury. He is dead before I he can register what did. I run from the alleyway.

* * *

_

I am awake, and breathing hard. The hat is in my lap. My legs are cramped from being on the couch for so long. The credits to LOTR are rolling lazily on the screen, the background music blaring annoyingly. I flip off my television and go upstairs to shower. My back hurts and my head aches. These dreams are stressful. I am seeing history in my sleep. Spot wants to tell me something…_what?_


	2. Memory

**Sorry for the longish wait. I had to write something for a friend (Crow's Fire).**

**I ABSOLUTELY LOVE HALLOWEEN! So during Science class (Cause we never learn anything useful) I wrote a oneshot that I'll post in mid-October. Woohoo. I got my Out Of A Hat trailer up on youtube as well. This is a good week for me so far! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies or anything portaining to it, or Disney. (Besides a pair of wicked red suspenders and a gray cabby cap)**

**Demi: Dimensional Traveller**

**Christa: Christina Conlon**

**Jewel: Rachel (Cause I love ya! :D)**

**READ AND REVIEW!**

* * *

The bell for math class rang and I jumped to my feet gratefully. Glad to be out of there, math was not my favorite subject. Next was history, much more my forte. The combo to my locker gave with a click and a roll; I shoved my books in the small cubby at the top and grabbed my History binder. I slammed it shut so the sticky lock would close full, turning around, the leering face of my friend Demi met mine.

"Yikes!" the papers flew from my hands to flutter down like frightened white birds.

"What's up with you?" Demi Traven, my best friend, helped me pick them back up and hastily shove them into my folder as we walked.

"I'll tell you soon. Just go with Plan C okay?" I said.

"I thought you loved history!" she said, her eyes wide.

"It's really important, and you _hate_ history!" I said with a shrug.

"Good point," she said. "Ten minutes in?"

"I'll give you the signal," we had worked this down to a T.

"Alright," we took our seats as the final bell gave a shriek. Our elderly history teacher, Mrs. Jacobs walked into the room and took her place at the board.

"Today we will get more in depth about your projects. I am personally related to a newsie, David Jacobs. He was the second in command to the Manhattan newsies' leader; Jack Kelley," I was suddenly very interested. "David married Amy 'Poker' Baron. They are my great-grandparents and were both involved with the 1899 strike."

Mrs. Jacobs began to drone, and I had heard enough. I turned in my seat and shot Demi a wink. She began to wretch and clutched a hand over her stomach; doubling over in 'pain'.

"Demi! Are you feeling well?" Mrs. Jacobs asked.

Demi shook her head and made another groaning noise. Our teacher didn't suspect a thing as she sent Demi and I to the nurse's office together. We headed, instead, for the parking lot. We clambered into my beat-up old car and pulled out onto the Brooklyn Bridge, heading for my apartment.

"They never catch on," I laughed.

"Yeah, we've done that at least four times," Demi giggled behind her hand, turning on the radio.

_Halloween in the dead of the night hear you scream_

_I'm coming I'm coming_

_Halloween is the fear that I fight in my dreams_

_Keep running keep running_

Our favorite Aqua song! We bobbed our heads and sang along, finally pulling into the tiny parking lot in front of my building. Demi grabbed her bag from the trunk, toting it up the carpeted stairs. We didn't need any verbal affirmation; the redhead would be staying the night.

"What's so important?" she sat on my couch with a bucket of popcorn later that evening.

"Umm. You'd think I was crazy," I said softly.

"Try me," her eyes flashed playfully, encouragingly.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" I asked.

"Yeah," she nodded, scooping up a handful of popped corn and shoveling it into her mouth.

"Well, I'm being haunted by the ghost of Spot Conlon," I said.

"You're being haunted by a dog?" she asked, incredulous and laughing.

"Not a dog, a teenage boy! My great-great-grandmother's sister's boyfriend!" I said indignantly. All sources of a smile were whipped from her face in an instant.

"Do you have pictures?" she asked.

"Pictures, and his hat!" I pulled the small black box labeled 'Spot Clues' from under the couch and set it on her lap. Inside were Nona's album that she had given me yesterday, and the gray cabby cap.

"Wow," she sighed, digging around. She pulled out the album and opened it to the first page. It was a newspaper clipping from an obscure paper that had nothing better to print:

'_Spot Conlon Saves Manhattan'_

_The leader of Brooklyn's newsie force, Spot Conlon, has recently saved the Manhattan newsies from certain destruction. Appearing like heaven's fiery warriors on the rooftop of the Manhattan World Distribution Center, the Brooklyn newsies sent a hail of pebbles on the attacking force. They successfully continued the World Strike! _

'_Our first Date'_ there was a picture underneath this particular heading. A boy and girl dancing somewhere. There were other newsies gathered around them, and they were looking into each other's eyes, how romantic! The boy looked like kind of like a fifteen year old version of the seventeen year old Spot from my dreams. They were two years apart…wow. Love can work miracles that even age can't overcome. Demi continued flipping through old clippings, pictures, and notes exchanged by Jewel, Spot, Jack, and several others.

I walked into the kitchen to get a soda when I heard Demi's frantic yells. I ran into the living room, the T.V. was changing channels by itself. It landed on a random channel that was hissing with angry static. Then a dull, dark image began to form. Movements on the screen were slow and barely visible. Then, it was as if someone turned a light on, but still a dim light. It was barely enough to see by. Oh. My. Gosh.

On the screen was a young woman in an alleyway, she was holding a boy's head in her lap, sobbing. The blood pooling around her old-fashioned skirt suggested that the boy was injured. The boy himself was wearing a dark shirt and red suspenders; a gray cap was discarded nearby. To the side, a silhouette was chuckling darkly. Suddenly, the colors sharpened and I gasped in shock, _it was the same scene from my dream the other day! _I saw the rest as if it was all in slow motion.

"I hate you!" Jewel stood and turned; angrily she stabbed Monster and ran from the alleyway. The camera panned, five of the thugs that were once holding Spot were standing slack jawed. Spot was dead in a pool of crimson and Monster fell to his face, doing likewise.

Then it showed a shot of a girl in a red-stained, pale yellow dress flying down a cobbled Brooklyn street. She ran straight for the docks and flung herself onto the coarse wood. Sobs shook her frail frame, her thin arms held her sides as if she would fall apart if they let go. She stripped slowly from the dress, standing on the docks in her bloomers and a camisole. She jumped into the water, coming out moments later the blood cleaned from the cream material. She was still shaking and sobbing. She was muttering to herself.

"Spot, I love you, I'm so sorry," over and over. Someone, _something_, wanted me to figure this out. All I was getting were clips of memories long gone in history. Suddenly, the screen faded back to static, then blackness.

"Christa," Demi's voice was raspy and choked.

"That's what I meant Demi. I've been getting these messages. From dreams, and now this!" I flopped down next to her. Her arms went around me in a protective fashion.

"I'll call my parents and tell them you're sick. They can let the school know we won't be there for the rest of the week and to send Rachel over with your things," Demi was scheming. Whenever I was sick, her parents asked her to stay with me. If I came down with something like the flu…then I would be off for at least a week. Hopefully enough time for us to get some investigation done. We would be quarantined to my apartment; luckily I had a laptop, IPod, computer, and television. We would survive.

"Alright," I let out a shaky breath, still shocked about what I had witnessed on my television set.

"Be right back," she handed me my IPod and headed for the phone. She knew music calmed me down. I plugged it in and '_Back to The 80s'_ by _Aqua_. My favorite _Aqua_ song by far, well in close first to _'My Oh My'_. In the middle, the song began to skip…IPods don't skip…then a voice started talking.

"Jewel, I promised I would protect youse. Heah Ise is to make suah I keep my promise. I love youse, I hope Ise'll see youse in heaven," Spot's voice came dully through the ear buds to invade my foggy mind. I shook my head to clear it, my eyes widening. Demi came back into the room.

"What did I miss?" she asked, unaffected.

"Sp-Sp-Spot…" I promptly passed out on my couch. This time, I didn't dream. When I opened my eyes, Demi was sitting next to me, reading.

"What did I miss?" I asked.

"Another re-run of NCIS," she said, licking her finger and turning the page.

"Alright, let's get down to business," I said, reaching for my bright green laptop.

Demi and I spent a half hour looking for more information about Spot's disappearance and Jewel's family. We managed to come up with the O'Connor family geneology.

James and Emily O'Connor had Crystal and Jacqueline. _Crystal? Oh! Jewel was a nickname._

Jacqueline married Fredric Thomas and had Tristan Thomas.

Tristan married my great-grandmother, Amy March, and had Elizabeth Thomas.

She in turn married and had my grandmother. Their last name was now Genivitch.

She married Grandpa Georgie O'Leary, giving birth to my mother and Aunty Margret Ann.

Jewel wasn't mentioned in the history, besides her name. Next to her name was a symbol of a small cross, meaning she had passed away before marriage. Poor Jewel, poor Spot. I had a lot on my plate, and a week out of school. _I better get to praying._


	3. Spot

**SORRY! Please don't eat me! I had a TON of homework, and my muse took a one day vacation. But I sat myself down and started hammering on random keys, look what happened! A chapter happened! Woohoo!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. But...I AM STILL LOOKING ON EBAY DAILY!**

* * *

Demi and I delved into 1900 New York. We pinned up a full size map of the territories (commonly called 'boroughs') and placed flags at important places. We included the docks, the lodging house, the Distribution Center, and a general alleyway we thought might be the one. I didn't have any other odd visions or visitations from Spot's ghost for the next two days. Our research went unhindered.

SPOT'S POV (AS A GHOST)

I watched as Christa and her strange friend unraveled the mystery. I sat, or rather floated, on the back of her comfortable couch; watching their every move. When they went to bed one night, I summoned all my strength and placed one of their pins over the correct alleyway. They'd never notice. I wanted to tell Christa more, but I had used all of my reserved energy giving her the two dreams, the vision and the message. I had wanted to tell her how we ended up in that alley that night. It was something even a hundred and ten years cannot erase from my memory.

_I was walking Jewel home after our date; we were holding hands and laughing at something she had said. All of a sudden we heard a baby crying shrilly. Jewel was, unfortunately, the motherly type. She wanted to go into the dark side street and see what it was, and if someone needed help. After unsuccessfully trying to talk her out of it, I followed her towards the sound. As soon as her silhouette was gone in shadow, I heard her shriek. I followed her, instinct to protect my girl overcoming all senses of self-preservation. I darted in after her, my eyes adjusting to the dim. I saw Monster, the violent leader of Queens. He had her by her wrists, holding her motionless. I was almost afraid she was unconscious until I heard her shout, "Get your hands off me you impertinent fiend!" _

_Only my girl Jewel would use her large vocabulary at a time like this. I whistled to get Monster's attention, when he turned to me he smiled maliciously. He gave some sort of signal; because all of a sudden, eight burly boys approached me from the darkened recesses of the alley. I toppled three before a cry of protest from Jewel stopped me in my tracks. I turned away from my attackers to look at her, first mistake. I was quickly shoved to the ground and pounced upon by the remaining five boys. They restrained me as Jewel and Monster argued. _

_I felt something cold and sharp touch my back, _he was double dealing Jewel_. I couldn't do anything as I felt a sharp pain, and then nothing. I remember briefly reminding Jewel of my promise, and that I loved her. Then I was back at the Lodging House…_

Being dead is strange. At first, I floated through a blackness that restrained me, pulled me in all different directions; while at the same time tried to compact me together, pushing from all ways. Then, in a flash of white, I was sitting in my lodging house watching the boys mourn. I had tried to talk to them, to tell them I was watching over them. Every time words came out of my mouth, my boys would shiver or make a comment that it was unnaturally cold. Although they didn't respond to my attempted communication, they seemed much calmer whenever 'I' was around.

I watched the world change around me, alter itself. I watched my dear city grow. I saw the first cars roll down the street; I saw the first Ferraris and the first Mustangs. I marveled at what humans could do. I saw it go from radios, to tape players, to these things called IPods. From baggy colorful pants to tight black ones. I saw girls stop wearing skirts, and start wearing very form fitting things called 'skinny jeans', no one seemed shocked. I had no idea why I hadn't gone to heaven, or…the other place. Then I remembered my promise, was I missing something? I realized, one day, that I was. And that thing I was missing: was someone to protect.

I was sitting in the abandoned lodging house when some little old lady came in, she started to clean. I watched with wonder as she began to transform my old home into something new. Something littered with old newspaper clippings I recognized, one of them even held my picture. The day I rescued Manhattan. A store. This little old woman was making a store out of MY lodging house!

Well, it really wasn't _mine _anymore. Brooklyn leaders had come and gone, but no one really forgot my name. Every new leader was told the story of my leadership…and tragic end. I was an enigma even in death.

One day, a girl walked into the store. She looked so much like Jewel that I stood frozen on the staircase, hovering there. She picked up the picture of the day I rescued Manhattan, and asked, "Who is that?"

"Who?" the little old lady shuffled over to the picture and gave a little chuckle, "That, young lady, is Spot Conlon. The infamous ladies' man of Brooklyn! Our very own little king," she motioned around the room. "This used to be a Lodging House for him and his newsies," she said.

They were talking about me, now was my chance…I flew to the side of the girl and whispered into her ear, "What are those stairs for?" I noticed that when I whisper something into people's ears, they grasp it and notice the same thing for themselves. I had stopped many fights and near-turf-wars with this ghostly tactic.

I knew that up those stairs was _my hat_. If I gave her something that linked me to her, then I could leave this place. I could see New York.

I whispered into the old lady's ear, "Take her upstairs, she seems so innocent and interested."

I watched in prideful glee as they ascended to my room. The girl, without my help, grabbed my cabby cap in her hands and looked it over. When she touched it I felt all of my energy flair and an image of Jewel smiling flashed in my head. _Was she somehow related to my true love? Was _she _who I needed to protect?_ The realization made me smirk and hold my chin high once again. I heard a sharp gasp and looked down at the old woman, she could see me.

I faded quickly, the flair of energy slowly dying back into the hat. The elderly lady hurriedly sold my hat to the girl and wandered away. My hat was shoved into a purse and I felt some sort of gravitational pull towards the girl, I was leaving my lodging house for the first time since my death over a hundred years ago! We walked to an apartment building a few blocks away, taking a strange, shining, box-like contraption to another floor. She stepped into a lonely, white washed apartment. _She was alone? _An elderly lady came over and again I felt the rush of energy as the girl picked up my hat. I was visible again, but only to the old woman! WHY COULDN'T THE GIRL SEE ME?

I listened in shock and wonder as the old woman explained that Jewel _was_ related to this young woman. I was staring at my would-be great-great-great-niece-in-law!

CHRISTA'S POV

"Demi, I give up!" I sighed, leaning back on my couch. Four empty coffee cups sat in front of me.

"We can't, come on!" she was still on a buzz from her fifth cup.

"Demi, we need some sleep. Spot isn't leaving anytime soon. He's been here for a hundred and ten years! He can wait one more night," I complained. Demi gave a sigh of defeat.

"Alright," she said. I turned off my laptop and shuffled up the stairs. I brushed my teeth and said a mumbled goodnight to my hyper best friend. "_Please no nightmares tonight"_, I prayed as I drifted asleep. I was not granted that wish.

_This time, I wasn't reliving history. I was myself, wearing my Peter Pan pajamas and sleeping in my bed. It was odd, watching myself sleep. Then dream-me opened her eyes. Sitting on the edge of her bed was the specter of Spot Conlon. "Listen, Christa; I'm sorry for scaring you. It means a lot to me, the fact you're trying to help me rest. Please, solve my mystery. I miss Jewel, I love you!" _

I shot up in bed, covered in a cold sweat. He loved _me?_


	4. Goodbye

I sat down on my couch with a sigh, Demi was still asleep. I had paced the wood flooring, the cold not bothering my bare feet in the least. I listed off the things about the murder that I knew:

1) Spot was stabbed

2) Monster from Queens did it

3) Jewel killed Monster

4) Jewel died

That's pretty limited, I mean, Spot showed me the same scene twice. I just had to figure out who killed Jewel…difficult. Spot would have showed me that already, I think that's what he wants most. To know how she died. I flew to my laptop, pressing the button impatiently and waiting for the 'Windows' screen to flash, coloring the wall behind me a dim blue.

I hurriedly typed 'Google' and watched as the colorful bubble letters seeming to urge me forward on my quest. 'Crystal O'Connor'. I searched for an obituary, and luckily found one.

'_Crystal O'Connor of Brooklyn was found dead in an alleyway. Bruises on her arms bring suspicion of foul play. Does her death have anything to do with the death of Spot Conlon and Monster Tralay? Is a violent gang after the New York World newsies?_

_The family, an older sister and brother-in-law, are devastated at the loss. The funeral will be closed casket, in Bloomfield Cemetery this Friday evening. She will be buried next to Spot Conlon, the same boy who was killed earlier this week. _

_Authorities are looking into it. Also found at the scene of the crime was a crudely written note saying "She was warned" and to back off. It seems the murderer wants to pin it on Brooklyn's dead leader, but seeing as he is dead, we don't know how this could have happened; or how he could have killed her. _

_A local Detective thinks that it's possible Spot had a hit man, who took the girl down for murdering his boss. More news will be released on a later date.' _

All her death mattered to anyone was the news. No one could care less that Jacqueline was sister less. No one cared that three street rat children were gone. _Murder _is just a nice word to put in a headline. Just a nice thing for the newsies to yell on the streets during their workday. Just a nice thing for a father to entertain his children with before bed. Just a nice bit of news.

"Spot, I found her." I whispered. A dull glow came from behind me; the face of a boy was reflected in my computer screen. "She was murdered, Spot. By Monster's boys. I'm sorry!"

"It's alright, thank you," the words echoed in my head. I, surprisingly, wasn't frightened. I almost seemed _more _calm when the specter was around.

'You can be at peace now," I said softly.

"No, Ise can't. Ise made a promise to Jewel that Ise would protect her and Ise failed. Ise will always be there for youse," Spot's ghost sighed.

"But I want you to be happy," I said.

"Ise will be, you look just like her. Ise will get to see my true love reflected in yoah face every day. Ise made a promise," Spot frowned, then smiled again. "Plus, I kinda like da futcha. When Ise get da opportunity, I will rescue youse. Den I'll be happy and then I can finally rest. But don't expect to see me very much after this, jus' don't go runnin' in front of cahs. Okay?"

With that, he disappeared.

"Alright," I said under my breath, turning off my laptop and wandering to the couch. "Goodnight," I said to no one. The light in the kitchen turned off, _Spot._

FOUR MONTHS LATER

I hadn't seen or heard Spot for two months. The last time I saw him, he warned me about my hairdryer plug being in the bathroom sink. I was so preoccupied that I didn't look where I was going, when I looked up, I was walking across the street. The school was only about a half block away, then I heard a squealing noise. Turning to my left I saw a car skidding across the school parking lot towards me. I saw everything next happening in slow motion, a figure streaked across my vision. I was thrown to the ground four feet away from where I was, and the car's tires were smoking where I had just been standing.

People enveloped me, asking if I was alright and if I was doing okay. Demi helped me stand and told people to, "BACK OFF SO SHE CAN BREATHE! SHE ALMOST GOT HIT BY A CAR!"

"Thanks," I gasped, wiping myself off.

"Are you doing okay?" she asked, I nodded dumbly and looked around.

"You look like someone shoved you out of the way," she said, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Someone did, did you see who?" I looked around the excited and anxious crowd.

"No one was anywhere near you," she said flatly, curiosity lacing her tone. "No one could have pushed you Christa."

"Oh," was all I said. Then I saw it, the flash of something metallic reflecting the light. I turned, standing in an alleyway across from me, was a boy in brown trousers and a blue shirt. He was wearing red suspenders and a gray cabby cap was perched on his head. His nose was slightly upturned and his eyes a hard cobalt blue. In one hand he held a gold tipped cane. He nodded to me, smirked, and disappeared in a flash of light. I heard the words in my head. _"I promised."_

_Spot saved me. He can finally be with Jewel in heaven now._

I cast a glance skyward. "Thanks," I said softly.

"What?" Demi asked, looking at me.

"Nothing," I said, and let her lead me to the nurse.

* * *

**What? What? Done so soon? Yes. Done so soon. I just wanted to write this cause I liked it, I had it finished before I even posted Chappy 1! So, I just want to say thank you to all of my lovely reviewers! **

**Coming soon: Blissfully Ignorant, Different Wisdom, Changing the Facts**

**A series I am writing. Wanna preview? Here you go:**

_"I'm not hungry!" I yelled down to my adoptive father. _

_"You have to get off that laptop sometime! You need a life, like a normal teenager!" his comment stung. I knew I was an outcast, the girl who sits alone at her lunch table everyday. Does he think I'm unaware of this? _

_"Whatever," I mumbled to myself, my fingers agilely attacking various keys. Slowly but surely, a story was forming at my fingertips. The last chapter to my Star Trek: Next Generation fanfiction. I sighed and leaned back. _Time to press that handy-dandy 'upload' button, _I thought. I looked up at my only two friends, a picture of Christian Bale in some western get-up, and a picture of Captain Kirk. _

_I just wanted to get away from this place. I'm adopted, and I'm not accepted socially either. I leaned back, running a hand through my sandy blond hair. I pulled my baggy 'Notre Dame' sweatshirt closer around me, and finished my sentence. _Done. _Good. _

**What do you guys think? It will be up soon. After Blissfully Ignorant will come the lovely sequel to Out Of A Hat. I'm taking Newsie roll-call now! SO! Come one into the Lodging House, have a cup of tea! **

**CTB **

**Firefly Conlon**


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